The man's expression changed.
"An appointment, sir! Ah, sir, then you are to step in here." And to my vast astonishment he admitted me into a small room at one side of the entrance. It was bare as poverty, and furnished with benches, and nothing more. On one of these was seated a person with an unmistakable nose and an odour of St. Giles's, who sprang to his feet and then sat down again dejectedly. I also sat down, wondering what it could mean, and debating whether to go or stay.
"Exguse me, your honour," said the person, "but haf you seen Mister Fox?"
I said that I, too, was waiting for him, whereat he cast at me a cunning look beyond my comprehension. Surely, I thought, a man of Fox's inherited wealth and position could not be living in such a place! Before the truth and humour of the situation had dawned upon me, I heard a ringing voice without, swearing in most forcible English, and the door was thrown open, admitting a tall young gentleman, as striking as I have ever seen. He paid not the smallest attention to the Jew, who was bowing and muttering behind me.
"Mr. Richard Carvel?" said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye.
I bowed.
"Gad's life, Mr. Carvel, I'm deuced sorry this should have happened.
Will you come with me?"
"Exguse me, your honour!" cried the other visitor.
"Now, what the plague, Aaron!" says he; "you wear out the stairs. Come to-morrow, or the day after."
"Ay, 'tis always 'to-morrow' with you fine gentlemen. But I vill bring the bailiffs, so help me—"